


The Secret Garden

by icosahedonist (teljhin)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anachronistic, Curses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 05:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teljhin/pseuds/icosahedonist
Summary: "This is a forgotten place."





	The Secret Garden

**Author's Note:**

> This has nothing to do with the novel, other than it shares a name. Many thanks to the group chat participants who stayed up with me while I wrote this, and graciously allowed me to fill the chat with fic in the first place.

As has been his habit for long years, Sid wanders the local forest, and happens upon a quiet, well-maintained garden, where he meets a young man reading on a stone bench. The young man looks up at Sid's intrusion, a little shocked, but his face smooths to a pleasant smile. "Hello," he says, his voice soft and accented in a way that makes Sid think of adventures in far-off lands.

A moment passes and Sid blurts out, "Hi!" Hoping to regain equilibrium, he says, "My name's Sidney. Sidney Crosby." And the young man introduces himself as Evgeni Malkin. "I've walked these woods for years and never come across this place. Are you new in town?"

Some emotion flits over Evgeni's face before he replies, "Not new, exactly. But I'm surprised you came here; my garden is hard to find sometimes."

Evgeni gestures for Sid to join him on the bench. Sid sits beside him, the stone cool beneath his hands. He nods at the book. "What are you reading?"

"Ah, it's—" And Evgeni pauses as if embarrassed. Sid puts on what he hopes is an encouraging smile. "It's some poetry. A little slow going, as my English is poor."

Immediately Sid scoffs. "Your English is fine. And who cares how fast you read? I can hardly get through my assigned reading without nodding off, I'm so slow."

Evgeni laughs. "All right." His smile is so easy and without artifice, it makes Sid warm from the inside.

Searching for something to say, Sid asks, "What did you mean when you said your garden is hard to find sometimes? I could swear I've been by this area before, and I would have remembered a place like this, and..." He hesitates, then says, "I would have remembered someone like you."

Evgeni looks down. Sid worries that he's offended him somehow, but Evgeni says, so softly Sid has to strain to hear, "This is a forgotten place."

Brow furrowing, Sid makes to speak when Evgeni looks back at him. "I don't mean to sound melodramatic," he says, his smile returning, "but it's true."

"How?" Sid breathes. Melodrama or no, this mystery is too terrible to think about.

Shrugging, Evgeni says, "A curse fell upon the estate long ago. All who lived here were cursed to be forgotten. Everyone who passes by would overlook it, and I..." He grimaces. "I'm the last now."

Sid doesn't know what to say. Curses aren't real. Are they? But he doesn't get the feeling that Evgeni is lying to him... And to what end? If he wanted some sympathy, he surely wouldn't invent such a tall tale.

But Evgeni shakes his head. "I know. It doesn't sound real, does it? I didn't think so at first when I heard it, but I'd see people pass by in the garden, and no matter how I shouted, no one ever approached."

"That's. That's _awful_ ," Sid says finally.

Evgeni shakes his head again, his smile returning. "Well." He claps his hands on his knees and stands. "Since clearly _you_ are here, and we're talking now, why don't I show you the estate?"

Sid springs up faster than necessary. "Oh, I. I'd like, yes. Of course." Bemused, Evgeni gathers up his book and leads the way. They wend their way through the lush greenery, flowers and scented herbs lining their mossy, paver-laid path. Evgeni points out a tree that he climbed as a child. ("You don't know how often I scared my parents." "I can imagine.") They pass a pond with ducks lounging by it, paying them no mind as they doze and waddle about and generally do duckish things.

Then they come upon the house itself. It's a large, dark manor, imposing and Gothic-looking and altogether foreboding, but Evgeni leads Sid up the multitude of steps and they go inside, the stained glass door opening and closing on well-oiled hinges.

"Sorry, it's a bit much," Evgeni says.

"No no, it's fine," Sid says faintly. The entrance opens to a grand staircase, large windows at the landing letting in copious amounts of sunlight. Above, an ornate chandelier twinkles among the dust motes. To the left and right are archways to other areas, and Evgeni gestures toward the left.

"Since it's just me now, I've cut down my living quarters considerably. So now I take my meals in the kitchen, and sleep in what used to be the dining room." He looks back at Sid, grinning and inviting him to share in the silliness that is a too-big house.

Sid grins back. "I'm sure it's cozy enough." And Evgeni laughs, and Sid feels warm again.

They come to what is clearly a library. Books bound in every color, in every shape, fill the wall-to-wall shelves. At one end is an unlit fireplace with a well-worn, overstuffed chair in front of it. A knit blanket drapes over it, askew, and on the side table are a stack of books.

"I maintain this room too," Evgeni says, pride suffused in his voice. Sid marvels at the immensity, thinking that these sorts of personal libraries were a relic of the past. Then he thinks, if what Evgeni says is true, then it is a relic. But a well-loved one, clearly, and Sid can't be sad about that.

Quietly Sid says, "It's wonderful, Evgeni."

Turning bashful all of a sudden, Evgeni strides past Sid. They make their way to the other wing, where the kitchen and Evgeni's converted bedroom reside. They pass by other rooms, parlors and sitting rooms and rooms Sid can't even name, all of them quiet and sheet-covered.

The bedroom, though clearly too large for just one man, is simple in its furniture: a small bed made up carefully, a bedside table with a lamp, a dresser with odds and ends atop it.

The kitchen is much the same, but its old-fashioned design is more pronounced. A pile of wood is stacked by the door, and Sid realizes then that because of all the natural lighting, he hadn't noticed that this house likely doesn't run on electricity. Which perhaps only means it's a curiosity. But Sid says nothing, merely nods and smiles when Evgeni looks at him like he wants Sid to approve of his well-kept kitchen.

"I could make you something, perhaps? I could roast some vegetables, I grow them myself."

Charmed, Sid says, "Thank you, but—" He looks at his watch, and when he glances up Evgeni is looking at his wrist in fascination. He unlatches it and hands it over for Evgeni to inspect. He watches as Evgeni turns it this way and that, fiddles with the clasp, pokes at the plastic face, and finally holds it up to his ear.

Evgeni shakes his head ruefully then hands Sid back his watch. "I knew there were surely inventions beyond what my books describe, but this is fantastic."

Sid believes him then, he decides. It'd be too much otherwise, even if believing in curses is still a far-fetched and frankly ridiculous notion.

"What will happen if I go?" Sid asks.

Evgeni looks away. The sunlight through the kitchen window lines his face in gold. "I don't know," he says, softly. He turns back, then says a little louder, "It was a miracle just to see you again, and for you to see me."

Sid blinks. Slowly, he says, "What do you mean, 'again?'" He stares at a now-silent Evgeni.

Then Sid has a thought: "Wait, you don't mean we've... have we—" But Evgeni shakes his head.

"I assure you, you've never met me before. But I told you that I would see people wander by the garden. I've... I've seen you over the years." He glances away, a strange smile over his face. "This is the first time you've seen me."

Sid can't think of what to say. Evgeni continues, "So I don't know what will happen when you leave. And you _will_ leave, Sidney, because you can't stay here." And Sid wants to protest that, but it's true: Sid has his family, and all his friends, and classes and everything beyond this estate, beyond Evgeni.

"Then come with me," Sid blurts out, face burning with some emotion he can't name.

Evgeni stills. Sid presses on. "If I can see you now, what's to say you can't leave too? Maybe you don't have to stay here."

"This is my home, Sidney," Evgeni says gently, but Sid shakes his head.

"I know, but. Maybe you can come back, I—I don't know, or, what if I come back? Surely I could," he says earnestly.

Evgeni's hesitation draws out like a dwindling rope, and for a moment Sid wonders if he's gone too far, or made Evgeni hope too much for something that may have worked only this one time.

Finally, Evgeni says, slowly, "If I go with you..." He covers his eyes with his hand. "If I go with you," he repeats, voice rough, "and if I can't leave, then I will still have this moment with you. Even if you can't return."

Sid takes a step toward him. "But if I can't return," Evgeni says, "what shall I do? This is all I've ever known. This estate has been in my family for... for forever. For it to stand alone and fall to ruin..."

Sid's heart thumps painfully in his chest. "I don't know. I wish I did. I wish that I could say you can... make a life with me, be friends outside this place, but..."

"But we're friends now." And Evgeni sniffles loudly, and says, "Aren't we?" He uncovers his eyes and looks down at Sid, his brown eyes full of unshed tears that make Sid want to brush them away.

"Yes," Sid says with absolute certainty.

This earns him a weak but genuine smile. "Then I will always have this miracle at least, and fret over nothing else."

They return to the bench in the garden, saying nothing along the way. Sid undoes his watch and presses it into Evgeni's hands. "Please. If... if I can't, then..." And he can't finish his sentence.

Solemnly Evgeni nods. For just a second he pauses, then ducks down to kiss Sid's cheek. Sid's fingers come up unbidden to linger there, and Evgeni's face colors.

"I'm glad I met you, Sidney Crosby. No matter what happens, I won't forget you."

He steps away, biting his lip. And then Evgeni turns and strides away toward the manor, and in the blink of an eye he's gone.

Sid shakes himself out of his daze. He goes home straightaway, and in a fit of inspiration writes down everything he can remember of the encounter: Evgeni on the bench with his book of poetry, the ducks at the pond, the vast emptiness of the manor, Evgeni showing him his beloved library. He mentions only that they parted as friends, and that Sid hopes to retrace his steps and go back to the garden.

That night he falls into the deep, dreamless sleep of one who's been through some great event.

When Sid wakes the next day he goes about his regular business: morning classes, lunch, more classes in the afternoon. By the time he gets home he's exhausted. He sees the journal by his bed that night, and flips to the end of it and reads what he wrote.

Memory comes to him all at once, a great shiver overcoming him momentarily.

It's like finding his second wind: he throws on his clothes and grabs a flashlight. Tromping through the woods at night is already a dangerous affair; Sid tells himself that it would be better to do this in the morning, but what if he forgets again? No, he has to try, he _has_ to find the garden.

What memory he _does_ have, thankfully, is good, so he feels confident that he's retracing his steps. But though he knows he's in the right area, he can't find it. Turning this way and that, his flashlight strobing through the trees, he feels a creeping sense of loss. The bench is gone, the manor is gone, and Evgeni—

Sid hears crunching in the distance. Then a voice. "Hello?"

It takes everything in him not to collapse from relief so strong.

He musters up his voice and shouts back, "I'm here!" He stays put, turning his flashlight toward where he heard the voice.

The crunching gets louder, and then a swinging light appears in the trees. Sid spots Evgeni and goes to him at once.

Evgeni has time only to say Sid's name in confused wonder before Sid is barreling into him, his arms wrapped tight as they can go around him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't remember, but I wrote it down and I _had_ to know, I just had to—" Sid babbles out.

"Sidney, Sidney! Calm down, Sidney, please, what—" And Sid buries his face in Evgeni's thick sweater, and for a long moment they stand there in an embrace.

Finally Sid pulls back to look at Evgeni. "I wrote everything down. I only remembered when I read it again. I'm sorry."

Evgeni shakes his head. "Don't be sorry, Sidney," and he wants to protest, but Evgeni shushes him.

"Sidney, don't you see? I told you it was a miracle."

Sid blinks. Looking carefully at Evgeni's face in the lantern light, he sees tears in his eyes. "I don't—what do you mean, I don't understand."

Evgeni laughs wetly and presses a long kiss to Sid's forehead. There he whispers, "We're beyond the boundary of the estate."

Sid jerks back, but Evgeni's arm holds firm.

"But. If..." Sid licks his lips. "If you're here, then... can you...?"

"I don't know," is all Evgeni says. He turns away, and hand-in-hand he leads them toward the boundary. Long seconds pass, the crunching of dead leaves under their feet the only noise in the forest. Then Evgeni stops abruptly, and then steps forward again just as quickly.

There, under Evgeni's weeping figure, is the stone bench.

Sid rushes to his side and holds him as Evgeni sobs in relief. He says words too fast to understand in some language Sid doesn't know.

Wiping his face, Evgeni stands and lurches toward the path to the house, Sid following closely behind. They pass the climbing tree, and the pond, and walk the multitude of steps to the too-big, too-empty manor. Evgeni's tears spring up again, and Sid hustles them inside to the kitchen.

He fumbles around for a glass, and then fumbles some more with getting water, but eventually he's able to set the glass in Evgeni's hands. Once he's drank two full glasses, Evgeni says, his accent stronger, "I didn't know. I didn't..."

"It's okay," Sid murmurs. He rubs at Evgeni's back, and they sit in silence for... Sid doesn't know how long.

Finally Evgeni speaks again. "Well. This is not only a miracle, but a romantic adventure too."

Startled, Sid laughs, a short honk that makes Evgeni smile widely. He puts his hand over Sid's.

"It doesn't matter that you forgot, Sidney, only that you remembered."

"And came back," Sid replies, quiet and steady.

Evgeni squeezes his hand. "Yes."

And by that point the adventure of the evening has exhausted them both, and Evgeni insists Sid take his bed while Evgeni fixes up one of the other rooms for himself.

Sid sleeps easily. In the morning, he comes awake to faint sounds, the kind one hears when someone is trying to be quiet while they go about their routine. At first he's disoriented; his parents aren't over for a visit, and Taylor would make much more noise.

But then he remembers, and he bolts up from Evgeni's bed to find him in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables.

Sid doesn't know if this strange feeling of relief at seeing Evgeni will ever pass. But maybe, he hopes, it will become something normal: something he could get used to.

And when Evgeni smiles and beckons him to join in making breakfast, Sid does, and forgets the outside world for the morning.


End file.
